


They

by ducky



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Avengers Academy (Video Game), Doctor Strange (2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13106013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ducky/pseuds/ducky
Summary: Not all memories were significant or extraordinary. But perhaps there is comfort in the smallest, most insignificant of them. [Kind of an Avengers Academy AU (see notes), Drabble.]





	They

**Author's Note:**

> This was a freewriting exercise of mine, and I tagged Avengers Academy (the game) because it seemed to have influenced my mood.

_**They didn't make sense.** _

 

**He** had a disciplined mind, a confidence that approached arrogance (although he swears he had toned it down over the years), and a leaning towards the finer things: cultured, wise, often archaic (though not always). He would be found in between books, comparing texts.

 

_He_ was disorganized, distracted: without any direction or steady path. Often caught loafing around, or not paying too much attention, his hands in his pockets, his cap atop his messy, shaggy, brown hair. He sits on the park bench every day, watching people, taking note of their habits. If he wasn't busy doing something that was questionable-- normally harmless shenanigans where he'd dared himself to do for no apparent reason.

 

_**They never connected.** _

 

Why would they? They've never spoken a word to each other. **One** was in the company of cultured intellectuals-- people around campus who had devoted their lives to their studies: whether it be art, literature, science, or history. _One_ sat in a corner, leaning back as his mind worked out several ways to cut class without anyone noticing, then would head back and surround himself with people like him: those looking only for fun.

 

_**They never had time to talk.** _

 

**His** schedule was full: first period, english literature; second, bio lab; third, forensics-- with only a fifteen-minute break in the morning and lunch in between classes. Any and all of his breaks were spent reading in the library.

 

_His_ schedule was a mess: first period, integral calculus, with a four-hour break in between this and his next class-- advanced programming, immediately followed by robotics and chem lab just right after lunch. His scatterbrained mind often forgot to wash up after experiments in his hurry, narrowly poisoning himself in his carelessness on the first bite of his sandwich.

 

_**They just had opposite personalities.** _

 

**He** didn't like that his usual reading desk had been co-opted for _his_ skiving naps. _**They**_ disagreed over cutting class. _**They**_ disagreed over who gets to use the desk for today. _**They**_ both refused to yield. _**They**_ both got kicked out of the library.

 

_**They could have walked away.** _

 

They saw each other again the next day: **his** second period was free (the professor had not appeared), and he walked into the coffee shop. _He_ was behind the counter. There were no other seats.

 

_He_ apologizes for what happened. **He** quietly acknowledges his apology.

 

**He** notices the name tag on _his_ chest. Jack.

 

_He_ says it's not his real name. **He** asks.

 

_'Scott.'_

**'Stephen.'**

 

It wasn't an unusal meeting: because people meet each other over coffee every day. There was nothing remarkable about it. _**They**_ didn't have much to talk about; _**they**_ didn't know each other. _He_ was tending to his work, quietly making coffee, clearing tables, serving. **He** was reading, again, the quaint music on the shop's radio filling the room.

 

_He_ had a five-minute break before he gets off his shift. _**They**_ had ten minutes to get to their next class. _He_ changes from his uniform and clocks out, ready to get back to student life. **He's** still engrossed in his reading.

 

_He_ places his hand on **his** shoulder, and suddenly **he's** aware of the _**time**_.

 

_**They**_ had four minutes to get to class by the time they got out of the coffee shop and **he's** panicking. _He_ realizes the importance of punctuality on **his** face and briefly chuckles, saying _he_ knows a _**shortcut**_.

 

_He_ motions for **him** to follow around the corner, away from the main gates, towards the garden. **He** was skeptical, but found himself trusting those earnest green eyes. _**They**_ come across a locked gate, which had been no match for _his_ lockpicking.

 

As the gate swung open, they found themselves just right outside the hall where his next class was. **He** thanks _him_. _He_ tips his hat, grinning as he walks away, likely headed to his own class.

 

**He** made it to class with a minute to spare, and a fond thought.

 

_**They never had any encounters again.** _

 

Life went on. College ended. Years passed. _**Their**_ paths diverged, and that moment became buried in their memories, farthest from the forefronts of their minds.

 

**He** became a **surgeon**.

 

_He_ became a _father_.

 

By all means, this was to be the end of _**their** _ story-- a brief, insignificant moment. They would pass each other by the street without recognition, two among the multitude.

 

On quiet days, the memory would resurface. Not completely, but in vague flashes, blurred and hazy. Some details would change: what song was playing, what kind of coffee was in that cup, what book was on the table, where they were running to. It wasn't a strong memory, it wasn't important, but it made _**them**_ smile a little.

 

Then, each back to _**their**_ lives.

 

In that brief moment, however, _ **they wonder**_ \-- if they would recognize each other now, as they did wonder if they would recognize other faces in their past, people who didn't stay long enough to be memorable, people who were liminal spaces in the gaps of their minds.

 

Perhaps someday, they would see each other again. Perhaps they've already met, bumping into each other in a busy street without paying attention. Perhaps they have stared at each other, with that nudging sense of familiarity, tugging on the verge of recognition. 

_**'We've met before, haven't we?'** _

 

**Author's Note:**

> The style is intentional.


End file.
